


A Little Like This

by boombangbing



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Kissing, M/M, Other, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boombangbing/pseuds/boombangbing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pretty people kissing each other! (Fills I posted on Tumblr for a kissing meme.)</p><p>Chapters so far: 1. Darcy/Steve - kiss along the hips, 2. Bruce/Jane - a forceful kiss, 3. Bucky/Darcy/Steve - kiss with a fist, 4. Pepper/Steve - then there's tongue!, 5. Bruce/Jane - underwater kiss, 6. Darcy/Steve - kiss in the rain, 7. Bucky/Darcy/Steve - chest + stomach kiss + filthy porn, 8. Bucky & Steve - (platonic) forehead kiss, 9. Bruce/Jane - hot, steamy kiss, 10. Darcy/Steve - nose kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darcy/Steve - kiss along the hips.

**Darcy/Steve: a kiss along the hips**.

Steve's body is fascinating. It's all strong and broad and soft and skinny. Like, his muscles aren't all gross and body-builder-y; he's got a soft layer on top that makes him really nice to touch. And she does, as much as possible. She wants to touch every inch of him.

She sits and looks at him, lit by the early morning sunlight streaming through the blinds that makes him seem to almost glow. Ridiculous.

“Are you awake?” she asks.

“Mm, no,” he murmurs.

“Well...” She leans in, letting her hair brush against his chin. He always likes it when she does that. “If I'm gonna be up this early, you sure as hell are as well.”

He chuckles but doesn't open his eyes. She wrinkles up her nose and stares at him for moment, before scooting down until she gets to his hips. 

“Maybe this'll wake you up,” she says, and presses her mouth to his sharp hip bone. He breathes in a little heavier, but doesn't open his eyes. She hums and traces her lips along the bone, down to the slight concave of his abdomen.

“Mm,” he hums.

She trails her mouth to just underneath his belly button, and his muscles flutter slightly underneath her lips, his stomach twitching from the sensation. Steve makes a very quiet, strangled little moaning sound, probably in no small part due to some of the stirring she can feel where her breasts are pressed against his legs.

She thinks they can both do a little better than that, though. She pushes herself further over, resting her weight more heavily on his legs, and drags her mouth across his stomach and up the slope to his opposite hipbone. She lets her teeth catch against his soft skin, and he sucks in another breath, louder this time, punctuated with a roll of his hips and a whiny exhale. She stays there for a moment, as his breathing starts to get steadily louder, then presses a final kiss to his skin and lifts her head, meeting his now open eyes.

“Did that wake you up?”

He smiles down at her lazily. “Better than an alarm clock.”


	2. Bruce/Jane - a forceful kiss.

**Bruce/Jane - a forceful kiss.**

“Jane, can I come in?” Bruce asks, hand raised to chest level in an awkward wave at the door.

“You don't have to ask,” she says, half her attention still on her laptop.

He smiles and walks into the lab, stuffing his hands in his back pockets, so that his shirt pulls across his chest a little and some chest hair peeks out. She looks at it for a moment, then back at the screen.

“Do you have a galvanometer I can borrow?”

“Um...” She looks up again, and then around at the lab. “I... think there's one in that cupboard,” she says, pointing across the room.

“Thanks,” he says, crossing over to it.

“No problem. What do you need it for?”

“Oh, I'm running an experiment on--” His voice dies as alarms start wailing, at really cringingly high pitches.

She claps her hands over her ears and jumps up. “Are you okay?” she yells to Bruce, who's similarly covering his ears. He doesn't look like he's going green, at least, and nods.

She runs over to the door to go out into the hallway and find out what the hell is going on, only to find the door locked. She jiggles the handle, tugs and pulls at it, then gives the door a shove with her shoulder, but it still won't budge.

Bruce taps her on the shoulder and points up towards the ceiling. “All the vents are--” The alarm abruptly cuts off and he drops his voice back to its normal volume. “--closed.”

She gives the door one final pointless try, then frowns up at the sealed metal vents. “JARVIS, what's going on?”

“A contaminant has been released and the tower is on lockdown until the risk has been assessed and dealt with.”

“How long's that going to be?”

“I cannot say until the danger has been assessed.”

“Helpful,” she mutters, and looks at Bruce. “You okay?”

He looks a little agitated, but he nods. “Sure.”

“Okay.” She tuts and rolls her eyes. “I bet this is the _biologists'_ fault.”

-

It's okay at first; the internet is still up and she enjoys Bruce's company, he's very charming, in an uncomfortable-with-the-world sort of a way. Honestly, when she was younger, she had kind of a crush on him – purely academic, of course, since they'd never met. He was the star of both Harvard's and Culver's physics department, and she thought his work was just amazing, especially since she also had a habit of coming up with wild, scientifically unacceptable theories, that turned out to be _right_ , thank you very much. 

The crush waned after she heard through the grapevine that he'd become violently crazy and fled the country, but now it's creeping back in, and not just for academic reasons.

After six hours of waiting around, though, it becomes considerably less okay. Mostly because _Bruce_ is becoming considerably less okay.

He's been pacing up and down the room, pulling at his hands, and visibly sweating for the last half an hour.

“Bruce...” she murmurs, taking a step towards him. She's been trying to talk to him, but it hasn't done much good.

He backs up, shaking his head. “I'm gonna go sit in the corner.”

“Oh... kay...” she murmurs, as he does just that. She's not exactly sure what's going on right now. “Bruce... can you tell me what's wrong?”

He makes a weird kind of hiccuping sound and draws his legs up towards his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “I don't like being trapped places.”

“Okay...”

“I keep thinking how this room is sealed and we're going to run out of oxygen.”

She frowns. “It's only been a few hours, and this is a big room, it'd take a lot longer than that.”

He clutches tighter at his legs and she risks taking a step towards him; he doesn't seem to notice. “You can't rationalise irrational thoughts, Jane,” he says in a thin voice. “In case you haven't noticed, I'm fairly disturbed.”

She nods and takes another step closer, noticing that his hands are taking on a distinctly unnatural tint.

“Bruce...” she murmurs ineffectually, trying to edge ever closer. He's catching on now, though, and shies back against the wall.

“Don't.”

“Bruce...”

“Don't!” he shouts, handing flaring even greener as his breathing comes in short, sharp bursts. 

Normally, in a situation like this, she'd probably back off, especially with an impending Hulk appearance. Although she's never actually met him, and she thinks he's kind of fascinating-- 

Not the time, Jane, _not the time_.

But right now, she hasn't really got the option of getting away, and her lab is not Hulk-proofed, and she'd rather it not get destroyed, so she ignores his pleas and kneels down beside him.

“Bruce, you have to calm down.” Wow, that's soothing, she's really amazing at this.

“Would if I could,” he says through gritted teeth, his voice taking on a weirdly deep tone to it. “Get away from me,” he growls. His shirt sleeves are starting to strain against his muscles, and his face is darkening and just looks... different, like his jaw is being forced forward. His pupils are contracting to pin pricks.

Her heart is pounding like crazy as his rapid breaths turn into rapid growls. What the hell is she going to do? Bruce having a panic attack is one thing, _Hulk_ having a panic attack? She's fucking toast.

“Bruce,” she murmurs, one last time, but it doesn't look like he's really home any more. She has a quick flash of an idea – a really _monumentally_ stupid idea – and runs with it.

She leans over and grabs the back of his neck, yanking him forward, and mashes their mouths together. Bruce/Hulk grunts in surprise, and she opens her mouth a little, pressing her lips hard against his rough ones, trying to approximate a kiss. She waits a beat, wondering if she about to get torn limb from limb, before she notices that Bruce's lips feel a little softer than before. They twitch against hers for a moment, then open with soft breath.

She presses him back, sliding her hand higher, into his hair, kissing him kind of hard, though he goes with it with another, louder, gasp. A heavy hand falls on her back, heavier than Bruce's relatively small frame should allow, but she doesn't feel as if she's in immediate danger, so she goes with it, sucking at his bottom lip and pushing him back until she's almost in his lap. He groans, sounding much more Bruce-like, and light fingers press into her shoulder blade as she curls her arm around his back, pressing her fingers deeper into his hair.

“Nnngh,” he groans against her mouth and she groans something in answer, pushing at him until she's got him almost entirely pinned against the wall. He shifts a little, but doesn't make any attempt to change their positions, and when she presses her tongue between his lips, he opens his mouth right away, tipping his head to one side to get a better position.

It's been years since she's just mindlessly made out with someone like this, and she's missed it a lot, she realises. His mouth moves in rhythm against hers, making little sounds that make her press against him harder, which just starts the cycle all over again. She's not sure if they're actually going to stop, and she's not sure that she cares.

She drifting her hand towards the bottom of his shirt when there's a whooshing sound in the room. It's enough to make her start and look up, Bruce's lips bumping against her chin. The vents are open, and pumping fresh, cool oxygen into the room.

“You are now free to leave, Dr Foster, Dr Banner,” JARVIS says, a little smugly.

“Oh...” she murmurs, looking back down at Bruce. Wow, his pupils have really dilated. She sits back a little, letting her hand slide out of his hair and down his arm. “Um.”

“Um,” he echoes, lifting his hand, and she thinks he's about to wipe his mouth, but instead he presses his fingers against his bottom lip, looking kind of dazed, still sprawled out against the wall.

“So...” she says. “I thought that, hm, that a distraction might help? And also endorphins?”

“Mm,” he murmurs.

“And also I like you,” she adds.

His eyebrows rise. “Yeah?”

She nods, and he smiles, fingers still pressed against his mouth.

“Maybe, uh... run that whole thing by me again?” he says.


	3. Bucky/Darcy/Steve - kiss with a fist

**Bucky/Darcy/Steve - kiss with a fist.**

She can hear the yelling as soon as elevator door opens on her floor. There's an old lady in there with her, who looks at her disapprovingly as they both get a blast of angry masculine voices. Darcy cringes and steps off the elevator, and thankfully the old lady stays on for the next floor. As soon as the door slides closed again, she storms down the hallway and lets herself into the apartment.

“Loud noises!” she yells over Steve and Bucky's argument. Steve stops immediately, tense stance falling back a little as he turns to look at her. Bucky looks like he still wants to rip his head off.

“Sorry,” Steve says sheepishly.

“Everyone in the entire building can hear you! You're gonna get us kicked out!”

Steve ducks his head. “Sorry,” he repeats. “We were... it was getting out of hand.”

“Oh yeah, apologise for the crazy guy,” Bucky snaps. Steve whips his head around to stare at him, and Darcy clutches at the air, rolling her eyes skywards.

“Crazy?” she repeats, muscling in between them so that she's facing Bucky, with her back to Steve. “You're driving _me_ insane! I said you could stay with us, not constantly start shit!”

He narrows his eyes. “How d'you know he isn't the problem?” he asks, roughly pointing at Steve.

“Because I know him and I know guys like _you_ ,” she says, doing some pointing of her own.

“You don't know anyone like me, sweetheart,” Bucky says, stepping closer and flashing his teeth at her. Oh, what _ever_.

“Hey, back off,” Steve snaps, pulling Darcy against his chest.

“Oh, playing the hero for your girl, huh? You always wanted to be that guy, didn't you?”

Steve's fingers dig in at her shoulder. “You're about to get a smack in the mouth, Buck,” he warns quietly.

“Yeah? Why don't you just fucking try it,” Bucky growls, closing in on them.

“Hey!” Darcy shouts.

Bucky grins at her. “What, you gonna do something about it?”

She's not sure what comes over her, except that Bucky clearly brings out the worst in both her and Steve, and Steve's put the idea in her head, because the next thing she knows, she's swinging her clenched fist at his face, hard, and it connects, spinning him around in a fucking circle.

She withdraws her fist and looks at it – holy _shit_ , she didn't know she could do _that_. Steve makes a very unsure noise, still holding her shoulder, and Bucky rights himself and looks up at her. She's even split his fucking lip.

“Huh,” he mutters, wiping the blood away. “So, maybe it's the other way around? You did always manage to get your protector into bed with you, Steve.”

She can feel Steve vibrating with indignation. She's definitely helped create the situation, she needs to diffuse it.

“If you're trying to make an awkward veiled threat about telling me that you two used to bang,” she says, tipping up her chin, “then don't, 'cause I already know.”

He blinks, looking at her with narrowed eyes. “You do?”

She shrugs. “It's the twenty first century, what do I care if my boyfriend's bi?”

He blinks again, glancing between the two of them, face kind of... crumpling a little.

“Is that it?” she says. “Are you angry all the time because you're jealous?”

“That ain't it,” he mutters, glancing at the floor.

She looks around at Steve, who hasn't said anything in a while. He looks back with big, uncertain eyes. She clicks her tongue and turns back to Bucky.

“Come here,” she says.

He narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Come...” She reaches out and grabs the front of his t-shirt, tugging him forward. “Here.”

He ends up a couple of inches from her chest, eyes flickering between her and Steve. She tips her head towards Steve.

“Go on,” she says.

He swallows and looks back up at Steve. She turns her head so that she can see both of their profiles, and the way Steve's tongue darts out and licks his lips. She gives him a gentle tap on the hip, and he jerks forward as if he's a puppet on a string.

The kiss is... surprisingly gentle, actually. It's awkward at first, like both of them have forgotten that they have noses, but Bucky leans in a bit further, leaving his feet planted where they are, and tips his head to the side. One of them, she's not sure which, make a breathy little sound, as their lips move slowly over each other. Steve's hand is still on her shoulder, his fingers now tapping against her collarbone softly, and Bucky's hand hovers for a moment between their pressed together bodies, before tentatively coming to rest on her waist. He might think he's hot stuff with the ladies, but everything seems very high school right now.

Except, like, the three way thing, she guesses.

He pulls back and stares at Steve for a long moment, then down at her. She smiles and leans up on her tiptoes, pulling him down for another kiss. It's equally as gentle, and very high school, like they can't quite figure out how the other one works, but damn well want to try. She can taste his coppery blood clinging to his lip, and swipes at it with her tongue – it's her mess, she should clear it up – and he grunts a little in surprise. Maybe that's a step too far for an old man like him.

She breaks the kiss and settles back on her heels. He stares at her in vague surprise.

“What?” she says. “Don't I deserve some of the fun, too?”

“I think you probably deserve a lot more than that,” he murmurs.

She smiles and looks back at Steve, who blinks at her and smiles himself. “Everybody less angry now?” she asks.

Steve nods and Bucky murmurs a, 'yeah'.

“No more shouting matches?” she pushes. 

Steve grins and looks at Bucky, who smiles back slowly. “Not that kind of shouting, I don't think.”


	4. Pepper/Steve - then there's tongue!

**Pepper/Steve - then there's tongue!**

After a couple hours 'schmoozing', whatever the hell that means, Steve finally manages to escape the party and find a nice, empty balcony to relax on. He sits down on a bench and looks out on the city – the party might not be his thing, but it's an amazing view, a whole new way to see his city-- or the city that used to be his.

The glass door slides open as he's wallowing in his memories, and he grimaces to himself – he'll have to find somewhere else to go now.

“Oh, Steve, there you are,” Pepper says warmly, negotiating the stone tiles in her stilettos, holding a champagne flute shakily in one hand. Maybe he won't have to find somewhere else.

“Hey, let me take that,” he says, leaning back and plucking the glass from her hand. She smiles and makes it to the bench.

“Never start wearing heels, Steve,” she says, retrieving the champagne from him, “it ruins you forever.”

He glances at her feet. “Okay.”

She chuckles and sips her champagne for a moment, staring out at the view. Her hair is all piled up in a knot on top of her head, just a few strands loose and framing her tanned face (fake tan, apparently; 'redheads and the sun don't mix,' she told him once, and he reminded her that his parents were Irish). He can't imagine why Tony would leave her to deal with all of this on her own. Steve sure wouldn't.

“This party is awful,” she says suddenly, “why the hell did you come?”

He shrugs. “It was suggested to me by Fury that this was a thing that all the Avengers should come to...”

“And then none of them showed up,” she says.

“Not even Tony,” he adds. And it's a _Stark_ Industries party.

She laughs. “Well, two things I've learnt from Tony: one, never trust Fury; two, _never_ trust Tony.”

He smiles and looks at his hands. “Tony really should've turned up though.”

“Well, him and Rhodey had tickets to watch something destroying something else. I can't remember exactly what. Probably robots.”

Steve nods, keeping his gaze on the city, the little lit up ants marching endlessly in grids. He sighs.

“Bless you for sticking it out as long as you have, though,” Pepper says.

Steve sits back and turns his head to tell her it's no problem, but it turns out that she decided to lean in to kiss his cheek at the exact same time, and their lips end up brushing together. This would be the moment to jump apart and mutter awkward apologies, and then, at least for Steve's part, haul ass out of there and feel embarrassed and guilty for the next month.

Instead... they just sort of stay there for a second, staring at each other, and then Pepper puts down her champagne flute and places her hand on the back of his neck and he just... closes his eyes. The kiss is just a little peck at first, more chaste than even his minimal kissing experience, and Steve thinks maybe that's going to be the end of it and how stupid is he for thinking it'd be anything else, especially with a woman who is _already_ in a relationship with someone who--

She moves her lips against his and he mimics her without even thinking. He keeps his hands to himself, he knows that much, but Pepper doesn't. She leaves the hand on his neck where it is, and raises her other hand, trailing her fingertips across the hair at his temple and down behind his ear. It's such a light sensation, but he gasps anyway, mouth opening under hers. She hums for a moment, then presses her tongue against his.

It feels... weird, but not bad. It's kind of nice, actually. Intimate. She curls the tip of her tongue around his, then strokes it along one side, and maybe he whimpers a little, though he'd never admit to it. She shifts her attention back to his lips, which at least he can participate in a little more fully, despite enjoying what they were doing before a surprising amount. She slips her fingers into his hair and presses against him harder; he risks touching her somewhere other than her mouth, resting his hands lightly on her arms, turning his head further into the kiss. Her tongue slips in again, but he's kind of used to it now, and starting to figure out how to do this and breathe at the same time.

Eventually she pulls away and wipes her fingers delicately over her mouth.

“Um...” he murmurs.

She smiles. “You haven't done that before, have you?”

He frowns. “It wasn't my first kiss, Pepper.”

“With tongue?”

He shifts a little. “Yeah, well... it's like them French people do it, huh?”

She laughs. “Yes, Steve, exactly.”

Her laughter is kind of infectious, and he finds himself smiling stupidly for a moment before his stomach suddenly drops. “Oh God,” he mutters, “Tony--”

“And I are in an open relationship,” Pepper finishes.

He blinks and frowns. “And that means...?”

“That I can kiss all the cute blond superheroes that I want,” she confirms.

“Okay...”

The corners of her mouth tip up mischievously. “And so can he.”


	5. Bruce/Jane - underwater kiss

**18 - underwater kiss**

Tony sends the two of them to the coast of Reykjavik in a boat. Not on a holiday, mind you, but because Jane thinks there's some kind of sunken HYDRA submarine that might have some key artefacts on board from the Asgardians' early visits to Earth. Bruce volunteers to go with her because he's starting to find everything – the city, the job, the Avengers – a little too stressful, and this is better than just running away. Cheaper too, since Tony is footing the bill.

Jane is kind of paranoid – a trait Bruce can appreciate – so they only have a guy to operate the boat, and that's it. Salvage is up to them.

It's pretty cold in the North Atlantic Ocean in September, so he's almost glad of the wetsuit he's been forced to put on, though it doesn't leave any room for physical insecurities.

“I hope you're a strong swimmer,” Jane calls, standing with her arms crossed and her feet apart in her wetsuit. She looks... good in it.

“Oh, there's... something I've been meaning to tell you,” he calls back. Her eyes narrow and he smiles sunnily.

“Ha ha,” she says, rolling her eyes.

-

The first couple of days are a bust, and he ends each one with shaky, aching limbs. It's not a bad feeling, though, it's actually kind of satisfying to be properly worn out by night time, like he's achieved something, maybe. 

Also, it makes it easier to sleep on a cot six feet away from Jane, who is apparently a warm sleeper and throws all her covers off every night, and sometimes pulls her t-shirt off in her sleep, leaving her in a sports bra and her pyjama bottoms. That's the point when Bruce rolls over to face the wall and reminds himself that he is _twelve years_ older than her.

Four days in, they finally find something. Sonar doesn't tell them much, so Jane dons her scuba gear and jumps into the water while Bruce is still struggling with various straps.

It seems like the sub was completely wrecked when it sank, but Jane's handheld sonar picks something up and she dives deeper for it, bumping into a fragment of the wreckage. Bruce isn't really paying much attention at first, since he's still trying to catch up to her, but after a couple of minutes, he notices something bubbling beside her. It takes him a couple more seconds to figure that it's her oxygen tank. _Shit_.

He swims over to her as fast as he can, reaching out to tug at her arm; she waves him off. He tugs harder at her arm and points to the tank and tries to mime suffocating. He never did much better than sheep number three in preschool nativities, though, so maybe his acting skills aren't very convincing, because she just waves him off again and turns back to the sub.

His rising panic is making Hulk think that maybe it's time that he take over the show, and that'll just make this situation _hilariously_ awful, so he reaches out and grabs her arm, dragging her upwards. She's a little resistant, but only for a moment, and when he looks back at her, he notices that the sonar has fallen from her hand and is drifting down into the darkness of the deep ocean. Her tank is bubbling like crazy. _Fuck_.

Is he a strong swimmer? Not fucking strong enough. He contemplates switching their tanks around, except he has _no idea_ how to do that. Next time he's going to read the manual, cover to cover. He pulls her up in his arms, still a few feet from the surface; her eyes are closed and if she goes into hypoxia she might start seizing before he can get her back on the boat and...

He takes a deep breath and yanks his mask off, then reaches over and pulls hers down too. He pinches her nose, fits his lips over hers, and breathes into her mouth. It's difficult not to breathe in through his nose himself, so most of his attention is geared towards that, but he still notices how soft her lips are, egged on by the Tony in his head going, 'don't you think she's pretty? Hm? _Hm?_ '.

Her lips twitch against his, and when he stops arguing with the Tony in his head, 'she's just broken up with a _god_ , Tony, go away', he finds that her eyes are open and looking at him. He lets go of her nose and takes in a breath mingled with sea water, his top lip settling on her bottom one.

Then they break the surface. Jane pulls away first, blinking at him, and he unattractively dribbles salt water down his chin.

“Are you--”

“What the hell?” she interrupts.

He frowns. “What?”

“I almost had something!”

“You were suffocating!”

She narrows her eyes. “I had at least another minute left!”

What in the fuck? What are they arguing about here, she almost _died_. “You passed out!”

“I did not!” She pauses and purses her lips. “You kissed me!”

“It was mouth to mouth!” he shouts back, as the volume of both their voices steadily climbs.

“I wasn't suffocating!” 

He doesn't know what to say next, he's completely confounded by the turn everything has suddenly taken. Jane is scowling at him, and it suddenly occurs to him that he still has his arms around her. He shifts a bit, righteous indignation sort of trickling away, and Jane's face softens to something more like confusion, her eyes dropping to his mouth. He licks his lips and leans in, just a touch. She glances back up at him and he moves away again, but she just blinks and leans forward herself, gaze flicking from his eyes to his mouth and back again.

The kiss is tentative – their noses bump together and Bruce almost loses his nerve, but Jane leans into his space and he finds the dregs of his confidence and kisses her back. Jane puts her hands on his neck and holds him still, fingertips pressing gently into his skin, and closes her lips around his.

She pulls away from him after a moment and presses her lips together. “That was a kiss,” she says.

“Yeah...” he murmurs.

“Hey, are you guys okay?” the boat operator yells.

Jane grins, ducking her head. “Tony's been telling me to ask you out for _months_ ,” she murmurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus [Bruce in his wetsuit](http://i.imgur.com/6R9R5ww.jpg)!


	6. Darcy/Steve - kiss in the rain

**Darcy/Steve - kissing in the rain**

If Darcy wasn't as logical as she is, she'd think that the weather was punishing her for upsetting Steve. Then again, with her new knowledge of possible weather-controlling aliens, maybe it's not so far from the truth. She's standing outside his adorable little brownstone in Brooklyn, her phone set to constant redial of his number, yelling for him to come out, and the rain just will not let up on her.

“Steve! Steve, c'mon, at least answer your phone or something!”

Someone pokes their head out of a second floor window, scowling at her; she salutes them and looks back at the front door. “Steve!” she hollers.

She's not sure why she didn't bring an umbrella with her, except for the fact hat she hates dealing with them, and she thought he'd be at least grown up enough to let her in. Now her glasses are covered in little droplets of water and she's wishing she had comically tiny windshield wipers.

She pulls them off to futilely try to dry them, and that's when she hears the front door open. She looks up and sees a very tall, blurry figure in a white t-shirt and khakis.

“Finally!” she says, jamming her still wet glasses back on.

“My neighbour told me to come out here because you were making so much noise,” he says, shoulders slightly hunched, like a very sad little puppy. “That, or call the cops.”

“That's how I do,” she says. When Steve doesn't reply, still looking all sad, she comes a little closer to the steps up to his building and tilts her head back. “You've been screening my calls.”

He shrugs.

“Look, I'm sorry that I upset you, Steve, but we _did_ agree that we weren't exclusive.”

His bottom lip pushes out. “But I didn't _mean_ it.”

She throws her hands up. “Oh, well, _excuse me_ for thinking you were a man of your word.”

He frowns at her, still pouting. “Well, I... I meant it at first...”

“But not for very long?” she offers.

“Yeah...”

She sighs and settles her arms across her chest. “Look, I only kissed that guy because it was a 'we saved the world again' party and you weren't around.” She thought he wasn't around, anyway. “He's like a... a cockroach compared to you.”

His eyebrows draw together. “So what am I?”

“I dunno, a butterfly?”

He tips his head to one side. “And I was a caterpillar before the serum?”

She rolls her eyes. Somehow they always get drawn into these ridiculous conversations. “I don't know, Steve, it's a weird metaphor, it doesn't stand up to scrutiny.”

He stares at her for a second before a smile breaks out across his face and his pout recedes into a soft, big-eyed gaze.

“Are you just going to stay up there in your nice, dry tower?” she asks.

“Oh!” he mutters, and comes down the steps, into the rain. “I'm sorry I didn't answer the phone. I just... I really like you and--”

She drops her hands onto his shoulders. “Yeah, I figured that much out. Come here.”

She slides her hand up into his hair and pulls him down. He's eager to kiss her, she can tell that much – they've been in a fight for two whole days, which is a lot longer than they've gone without seeing each other in _weeks_. 

Her face is already soaked from standing in the rain, and there are rain drops running down Steve's cheeks that she can taste when their lips touch. He opens his mouth wider, his top lip slipping over hers, and lifts his hands, trying to push his fingers through her hair. It's so wet and wind blown, though, that his fingers get caught after a couple of seconds, and she feels his lips curve against hers, his fingernails scraping gently against the bottom of her scalp as he curls his fingers through wet strands.

She pushes herself up onto her toes, looping her arms around his shoulders to get a better grip on him. He stoops at the waist and pulls her up, lifting her off her feet, and she feels, for a moment, like she's in some kind of rom com, so the only thing to do is kick her legs up. Steve laughs, the kiss turning kind of mash-y, his damp cheek rubbing against hers.

She pulls back a little and presses a kiss to his chin. “Can we go inside, do you think?”

“Oh, jeez,” he mutters, combing her wet hair back from her face. “You're soaked! I'm sorry.”

She smiles and slips her hand into his as he leads her into the building. Of course, her glasses immediately fog up when they step into the warmth, so she pulls them off againa and starts rubbing them against her sweater.

“Is everything okay now?” someone asks, and Darcy squints at the open door beside Steve's, where someone is standing.

Steve ducks his head. “Yeah, Tina, sorry about the noise.”

“Mm,” the woman, who Darcy can barely make out, hums. “Well, I'm glad. Now, shut the hell up.”

Her door slams closed and Steve's laughs a little nervously. “Oops,” he mutters.

Darcy tugs him over to his door, slipping her streaky glasses back on. “I think we should make considerable use of that huge shower you've got, what do you think?”

He grins. “I think it's much more fun kissing in the shower than the rain.”


	7. Bucky/Darcy/Steve - chest + stomach kiss + filthy porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part features kissing AND porn. Basically, Darcy and Bucky double team Steve. Could arguably be a follow up to [a kiss with a fist](http://archiveofourown.org/works/914506/chapters/1773196).

**Bucky/Darcy/Steve - chest + stomach kiss + filthy porn**

When Bucky gets in the front door, he's greeted with the sounds of two very familiar voices giggling. And yeah, despite what Steve might say, he _does_ giggle. He follows the laughter to its source, in the bedroom, and finds Darcy hanging onto Steve's back, her legs locked around his waist and her arms looped fairly tight around his neck, it looks like.

“I won't ask,” Bucky says, bending down to pull off his shoes.

“Probably best,” Steve says.

“I'm trying to push him over but it's impossible!” Darcy says. “It's like he's rooted to the spot!”

Steve grins as Darcy cards her fingers through his hair and gives it a tug.

“Impossible, huh?” Bucky murmurs, kicking his shoes aside. “Bet I can do it.”

“Bet you can't,” Steve says. Darcy 'ohhhs' like an audience member at a wrestling match.

Bucky lifts up his hands and makes a show of shaking his them out, then laces his fingers together and stretches them out, joints in his right hand popping. Steve rolls his eyes, and Bucky places his palms on Steve's chest and shoves him. Steve doesn't even sway.

“See, I've been trying for like the last half an hour,” Darcy says.

“Have you tried...” Bucky closes in on Steve and quickly yanks his shirt up, past where Darcy's legs are. “This?” He runs his fingernails over Steve's hipbones, eliciting a yelp from him and a stumble backwards. Bucky recalls epic tickle fights when they were kids, which he always won because Steve was, and apparently still is, insanely ticklish.

“Oh my God, how did I not know this?” Darcy exclaims, reaching down and tugging Steve's shirt further up. She runs her fingernails over his abs and he squirms, staring daggers at Bucky.

“It's his most closely guarded secret, probably,” Bucky says, grinning at Steve's irritation. They're not far from the bed, and it doesn't take much to manoeuvre him over there. Bucky attacks his hips again, while Darcy's hands are getting perilously close to Steve's nipples, and Steve finally goes down, collapsing onto the bed.

Bucky throws his arms in the air in victory, while Darcy scrambles out from underneath Steve, immediately crawling over to sit on his chest instead.

“I've immobilised him,” Darcy says, turning to look over her shoulder at Bucky. “Get his pants.”

Bucky hears Steve's bark of laughter and sets about dealing with his fly.

“I should never have let you two meet,” Steve says, his voice sounding kind of thick and hazy.

“Too late for that now, buddy,” Bucky says. Darcy grins at him and then turns back Steve.

“You love it,” she says, reaching down to unbutton his shirt. Steve very unconvincingly tries to pushes her hands away and they end up batting at each other like kittens in a bunch of those internet videos that Darcy likes to watch. Finally Darcy grabs hold of his hands, pins them to the mattress and kisses him.

Bucky tugs at Steve's pants, and Steve obligingly rolls his hips up so that Bucky can get them down to his knees, all without breaking the kiss with Darcy. Bucky tries not to feel left out, and fails.

When Darcy comes up for air, she scoots down Steve's chest and quickly unbuttons his shirt, then dismounts him like a bicycle and looks back at Bucky. “Wanna switch?”

He grins and gets onto the bed.

“I'm not a toy,” Steve murmurs.

“That remains to be seen,” Darcy replies.

Steve doesn't even look annoyed, just kind of dopey. Bucky leans up and kisses him quickly, then slides his mouth down to Steve's chest, pressing his mouth to the slight gap between his pecs.

Steve moans a little, mouth dropping open and staying that way, even after he falls silent again. Bucky runs his tongue along the little valley where Steve's pecs meet (his _manboobs_ , Darcy is fond of saying, which normally makes Steve hide his face in embarrassment), which gets a full body shudder from Steve.

“Like that?” Bucky says, close enough that the words vibrate on Steve's skin.

“Ngh,” Steve responds.

“That means yes,” Darcy says, and Bucky glances around to find that she's straddling Steve's hips. “I speak sex.”

Steve makes some sort of vague hand gesture and affirmative sound, and Darcy grins and lowers her head to his stomach, pressing her lips to just above his belly button. He huffs and rolls his hips, lifting Darcy up a couple of inches. Bucky watches as Darcy smiles and presses her mouth harder against his abs. Her teeth catch on Steve's skin and he groans; Darcy looks out of the corner of her eye at Bucky and quirks her eyebrow. He smirks back at her and leans down over Steve's chest again, biting down lightly on one of his nipples.

“Oh God,” Steve groans, “you two.”

Bucky runs his tongue over Steve's nipple, to another gratifying jolt from Steve, and sits back again. Darcy takes his place immediately, stretching up the length of Steve and kissing his neck. Her face and most of his disappears beneath her hair, so that all Bucky can see is Steve's fluttering eyelashes. They're gorgeous together.

“Hey, I've got an idea,” Bucky says.

Darcy rolls over onto her side, kisses Steve on the cheek quickly, and looks up at Bucky. Steve slowly flicks his eyes open and looks at him as well. “Know what your ideas are like,” he murmurs.

“Well, for this one, all you gotta do is lie there. You, on the other hand...” He grabs Darcy's arm and pulls her up, “you gotta come with me.”

“Yes, sir, sergeant,” she mutters as he lifts her off the bed.

“I'll just stay here then...” Steve calls.

-

Steve was always obsessed with girls. Even when the two of them were fooling around, Bucky always knew that Steve was thinking about what it'd be like to be with a girl. And now he has a girl that he follows around like a lovesick puppy, and Bucky has to share. He couldn't at first – he just didn't like Darcy, she was too brash, too daffy, too self-involved. Too much like him. If they were going together one on one, he's pretty sure they'd have killed each other already, but Steve is like the calm inside their storm. And he likes her okay now, he guesses. Steve loves her, that's for sure.

Steve's groan is guttural when Bucky slides into him, and thin and reedy when Darcy sinks down on his dick. With anyone else, this would be over in about a minute flat, but Bucky knows that Steve's stamina will keep it going for at least a few minutes.

Bucky wraps his arm around Darcy's waist to steady her and thrusts, shoving all three of them forward.

“Woo,” Darcy mutters, placing her palms on Steve's chest. Steve is completely checked out, head thrown back against the mattress.

“You okay?” Bucky asks. The three of them have fooled around before, even fucked each other while the third watches, but they haven't done this yet

“Oh yeah,” Darcy says confidently. He does like that about her, she's always up front with everything. She presses her fingers into Steve's skin and Bucky can feel Steve's shudder all the way down to his legs bracketing Bucky's thighs. “I don't think I'm the only one enjoying it. Maybe you should go a little faster, though.”

“Yeah,” Bucky grunts, sliding out and slamming back in. 

He keeps up a steady rhythm for a few minutes, to the background noise of Steve's steady moaning, Darcy's occasional cries, and the slap of skin against skin. After a while, though, Darcy growls irritably, apparently not getting what she wants, and grabs his free hand – his metal hand – and pushes it down against herself, where Steve's dick is stretching her.

“Faster,” she mutters, but he's still for a moment. He never uses this hand for anything delicate, and certainly not for anything like _this_. Darcy huffs and turns her head to catch his mouth, drawing him into a deep, unyielding kiss, and a second later he starts moving faster, rubbing his fingers against her clit and getting up onto his knees, lifting Steve's hips completely off the bed and taking Darcy with them. Darcy lifts a hand and closes it around the back of Bucky's head to keep the kiss going, and Bucky manages to hit on a rhythm that keeps them all happy.

When they finally break the kiss – they've kissed a few times, but nothing like that – Steve's moaning has devolved into whimpering, and he's clutching at the sheets above his head, a blush and a sheen of sweat covering his face and upper body.

Bucky bears down on him, tipping forward, taking Darcy with him, and fucks Steve hard and fast to his orgasm. Steve comes with a yell and a spasm, and Darcy's fingers join Bucky's against her clit, pushing herself over the edge before Steve has even stopped whimpering. She curls over Steve a little, panting, and Bucky looks for a moment at her curved back in front of him before wrapping his arms around her again and pressing his face against her skin, thrusting into a quickly relaxing Steve, drawing soft sounds out of him.

“Come on,” Darcy encourages, covering Bucky's hands clutching at her stomach with her own. Bucky grunts, slamming into Steve faster, aware that this probably isn't incredibly enjoyable for him any more.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve murmurs, fingertips finding Bucky's knee, sounding loopy as fuck.

Bucky's orgasm takes him by surprise, slamming into him hard enough that he lets himself go boneless against Darcy's back for a couple of minutes afterwards.

“Yay,” Darcy cheers quietly, and Bucky just laughs.


	8. Bucky & Steve - (platonic) forehead kiss

**Bucky & Steve - (platonic) forehead kiss**

The field medic gives Bucky a cursory look over when they get back to the camp, while Bucky makes eyes at one of the nurses. He hasn't seen a woman in weeks, maybe months; who the fuck knows how long he was in that camp for.

It's not until the doc is checking his reflexes with the little triangular hammer and Steve walks in, still in his torn jacket, that it hits Bucky like a slap in the face. _This is real. Steve_ is real.

Steve is real _big_.

“Is he okay?” Steve asks, and his voice carries a weight to it that it never used to. It commands attention.

“He's fine, Captain.”

 _Captain?_ Bucky eyes Steve, who smiles softly and tips his head towards the opening of the tent.

“C'mon, you're bunking with me.”

-

“So, you're a captain now, huh?” Bucky asks when they get into Steve's tent. There are two cots, with thin mattresses and scratchy looking blankets, but they look like a four poster beds to Bucky right now. He scowls; he wishes he'd never fucking enlisted.

“Kinda,” Steve says, pulling Bucky back to the present. Right, he asked a question. “It's just, uh, I dunno, ceremonial? But I'm holding them to it now.”

“And here I am, just a lowly sergeant,” Bucky mutters, kicking at one of the cots, shoving it along a couple of inches. He didn't think he'd kicked it that hard.

“You'll be general by the end of the year,” Steve says, voice soft.

Bucky shrugs. “Eh, the higher up you go, the less time you got to fuck around. There are some _very_ attractive nurses around here.”

Steve rolls his eyes and tuts, but with less of his usual disapproval. “You never change, Buck,” he says.

Bucky forces himself not to jolt. How did he survive in the camp? How was he strapped down onto Zola's table with pneumonia and broken ribs, and got rescued by Steve a couple of days later with nothing more than some dizziness and a stomach ache? Why does he feel like his skin is crawling?

“Try not to,” he forces out with a smile.

Steve fixes him with a long gaze, and then finally nods. “Why don't you lie down? It's been... a long day.”

Bucky snorts and sits down heavily on the cot. “You could say that.” He leans down to untie his laces, and notices for the first time that he's missing a couple of fingernails, and the rest of them are raw and bloodied, like he's been scratching at a brick wall for hours. He doesn't remember anything about that.

He must look at them for a while, because Steve kneels down in front of him and starts unlacing his boots. Bucky opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again and watches Steve's now broad shoulders move as he pulls the boots off Bucky's feet. Steve sets them aside and gets up, going over to a bag and looking through it for a moment before returning with a first aid kit. He pulls out a roll of gauze, a little pair of scissors, some tape and cotton wool, and a bottle of iodine, and gets to work, stony-faced.

“This is going to hurt,” he says, soaking a cotton wool ball in the iodine for a moment before lifting it to Bucky's thumb, where the nail bed is visible. He swipes it over the raw skin, and glances up at Bucky. Bucky doesn't even flinch. He can't feel it at all. Steve sucks on the inside of his lip for a second, then goes back to the iodine without a word.

“That medic's a hack,” Bucky finally pipes up when Steve's taping down the last bit of gauze on his pinky finger. Steve looks up at him, gaze steady and sad, and Bucky sobs out, “Oh God,” and buries his face in his hands.

“Okay,” Steve murmurs, and Bucky feels his arms slide around him for a moment, before he turns Bucky so that his feet are on the bed. “Lie down,” he says quietly, and Bucky doesn't even think about it, just does what he's told. There are tears running down his face that he can't stop, and he stays like that, lying on the cot with his hands covering his face, for a couple of minutes, while Steve stays kneeling on the floor, one hand on Bucky's arm.

Eventually Bucky blows out a hard breath and wipes at his cheeks. “Jesus,” he mutters.

“Do you need anything?” Steve asks softly.

Bucky turns his head to look at him. “My momma?” He snorts. “God, I don't even _like_ my mother.”

A smile briefly crosses Steve's mouth. “Get some sleep,” he says, leans over, and kisses Bucky on the forehead. His lips are very soft, Bucky thinks, like a girl's.

Steve stands up, cheeks pinking a little. “I gotta go get yelled at by Colonel Phillips, I'll be back soon.”

“Mm,” Bucky responds, staring at the dirty green top of the tent for a second. Steve moves off, to the opening and Bucky takes a breath. “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

He tips his head back to look him. “If you ever do that again, I'll punch you in the face, big muscles or not.”

Steve ducks his head and laughs. “Sure thing, Buck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stuff about Bucky's illness and injuries in the POW camp come from Captain America: First Vengeance, the Cap prelude comic. It's a surprisingly good tie-in comic, and it makes you wonder, what exactly did Zola do to Bucky?


	9. Bruce/Jane - hot, steamy kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written a Bruce/Jane go storm chasing fic before, but it occurred to me that no _actual_ storm chasing was done in it, so here we are. As always, a nice long run up to the kiss. Idk, man, I just really like plot!

**Bruce/Jane - hot, steamy kiss**

Bruce wasn't going to come along, but Jane guilted him into it by saying that he couldn't leave her to go alone with Tony 'Mouth a Minute' Stark.

“You could just not go at all,” Bruce pointed out, sipping at the peppermint hot chocolate she'd brought him. Everyone thinks he likes tea, but the two of them had been to Starbucks together enough times that he guessed that she noticed what he liked.

“Tony Stark is paying for us to go storm chasing,” she said, “I'm not passing up that opportunity, I just need back up. Come on, he's _your_ friend.”

He stared at her for a moment, as she first tried puppy dog eyes, then crazy eyes, on him. He laughed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, okay, you win.”

She grinned at him and his stomach flipped, just slightly. “Did you think I wasn't going to?”

So now they're in an RV, mostly just sitting around and waiting. They're at very close quarters with each other, which Tony pointed out could have been avoided if he'd just bought them a new state-of-the-art RV, but Jane said it had never let her down and that this was her show and he could shut it. Which, in fact, he did. She really didn't need Bruce to come along at all.

Being so on top of each other is making it difficult for Bruce to put out of his mind that time they kinda, sorta drunkenly made out at Tony's Christmas party. Well, she was drunk and he was stoned and they both weren't in full possession of their faculties and haven't spoken about it since. So waiting to use the tiny shower cubicle after her in the mornings and seeing her come out in nothing but a towel (which reaches her knees, but still) is making things kind of... hard. Pun possibly intended.

They're following a pretty minor storm, Jane doing the driving, Bruce in the passenger seat, Tony standing in the back, grumbling that he doesn't get to sit in the passenger seat. 

“God, everyone loves you, Bruce,” he grumbles, leaning against a railing.

Bruce snorts. “ _Really_?” he says. “You might want to rethink that, Tony.”

“Only assholes dislike you,” Tony says firmly, “and who cares what they think, all they do is shit everywhere.”

Bruce grimaces at that particular turn of phrase, but Jane grins. “He's right,” she says. “He's gross but he's right.”

“Sure...” Bruce murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That's what they all say, Foster,” Tony says wistfully.

Bruce chuckles and looks back up at the road, at the previously clear sky that's suddenly turned black. “Er, Jane?”

She looks round from Tony and starts in her seat. “Oh shit, that's one hell of a supercell,” she says, then steps on the gas towards it. A moment later rain and debris starts hitting the windows, and Jane yells at Tony to make sure that everything's closed. She glances over at Bruce, and he smiles back – there'd been some discussion about if he could handle the stress of this, but he's figured out through long, painful experimentation that it takes more than a little excitement to wake up Hulk, it's a special brand of fear that gets him going. That explanation was good enough for Tony and Jane, probably the only people, aside from Betty, who would take his word for it. The only people crazy enough to.

“That's the wall cloud up ahead,” Jane says, pointing to the dark cloud that seems to be almost touching the road.

“And that's a tornado,” Tony says, leaning in between the seats and pointing off to the side, where there's a funnel forming.

“Can we get closer?” Bruce asks.

Jane grins in answer and grips the wheel tighter. “Hold on to something, Tony!”

They're apparently a lot closer to the storm than he thought, because a couple of minutes later they're inside the damn thing and being hit with debris an order of magnitude larger than the twigs and stones of before.

“Awesome,” Tony murmurs.

Bruce eyes the whirling wind and rain around the RV. “Uh, maybe we should--”

He doesn't get any further because there's an incredibly unnerving groaning sound and suddenly a reasonably sized tree is crashing down onto road ahead. It's not huge, but neither is it small enough to veer around at short notice.

“Jane, stop the car,” Bruce says, gripping the dashboard. When they continue hurtling towards it, he grips the dashboard harder and shouts, “Jane, _stop the car!_ ”

“I can't! The brakes are stuck!” she cries, frantically slamming her foot against the brake.

“I _said_ we should get a new RV,” Tony exclaims. 

Bruce launches himself across the gap between the two seats, and slams his foot down on the brake next to Jane's, grabbing hold of the steering wheel, his hand overlapping with hers. The brake is really fucking stuck, even with both of them pushing at it, and it feels like an eternity but it's probably only a few seconds later that Hulk peeks out enough for Bruce to push the pedal to the floor.

The RV lurches to a stop, several things crashing to the floor and Tony swearing vigorously in the background. The funnel of the tornado is coming really close, and Bruce stays perfectly still, half kneeling on the edge of Jane's seat, his hand still around hers, his other arm leaning against the wall behind her head. The only part of him that isn't still is his heart, thundering away in his chest, getting Hulk upset, though they aren't quite at the point where it'd be safer in the storm than in the RV.

Jane stays equally still, staring out of the window, breathing coming in short, shallows bursts. The wind whistles around the RV for a moment, and Bruce feels like he's in some kind of environmentally conscious horror movie or something. He tightens his hand around Jane's and swallows, keeping his eyes on the storm.

After another couple of seconds, the whistling abates, and the sky ahead starts to clear.

“I think it's passed over us,” Jane murmurs. Bruce turns his head and looks at her, his pulse still racing. Jane looks back with big, shiny eyes.

“Jesus, I think I just shit my pants,” Tony mutters.

Bruce licks his lips, staring at Jane, and then all of sudden – he's not sure if he made the first move or she did or if it was a mutual collision – they're kissing. He takes his foot off the brake and kind of collapses across her legs. She sits forward, sliding her fingers into his hair and holds fast, and he groans against her mouth, pushing back into her.

“Uh...?” Tony murmurs, and Bruce flails his hand at him, unwilling to let this moment pass. “Okay... I'll leave you two to... do that. I'll be in the back...”

His recollection of their last kiss is spotty, except that it was good and left him tingly and disoriented afterwards, which he guesses is down to the fact that Jane doesn't fuck around with kissing. She opens her mouth and runs her tongue along his bottom lip, and he makes a very unmanly sound before pressing his tongue against hers and settling his hands at her waist. She pulls her hands from his hair, and for a moment he wonders if he's made a mistake and this is going to end before it even gets started, but then she starts unbuttoning his shirt, getting about five buttons open before sliding her hands up his chest and around his neck.

He presses into her again, spreading his knees so that he isn't sitting on her so heavily, and risks pushing one of his hands up underneath her t-shirt. She responds by sucking on his top lip and pulling him forward until she's pressed back against the seat and he's scrambling up onto his knees to keep the kiss going. Her tongue darts in and out of his mouth, daring him to keep up with her, and the best he can do is bite at her lips and run his fingers up and down her sides, up to the band of her bra, down to band of her jeans. Which she enjoys, judging by the noise she makes and her renewed interest in his hair.

The kiss is dizzying, and not just because he's breathing kind of heavily. Except for the party, it's been years since he's done this, just got really close to a person he likes a lot, just kissed and kissed and kissed with minimal thoughts and worries in his head. Jane feels so good under his hands and mouth, he knows why that drunken kiss stuck with him so intensely.

Eventually they slow down, although he's loathe to stop completely until Jane's mouth closes and she presses one last kiss to the corner of his mouth. He drops his forehead to her shoulder and takes a deep breath.

“Wow,” he murmurs.

“Mmhm,” she responds, stroking her hand over the back of his head. “Took us long enough. You should really put on a shirt in the mornings.”

He snorts, turning his face so that his nose is pressing against her neck. “Sorry.”

“Well, it's not a problem _any more_ ,” she says.

“Hey, guys,” Tony yells from further inside the RV. “When you've finished being uncontrollably aroused by the weather, you wanna come and look at these readings?”


	10. Darcy/Steve - nose kiss

**Darcy/Steve - nose kiss**

They've been out for hours, snow crunching under their boots and lights twinkling above them and Darcy complaining _bitterly_ about how cold it is. Steve feels kind of guilty, because they're out here because of him, because he just loves Christmas so goddamn much and he wants to do _every single thing_ with her, from ice skating to building snowmen to watching Christmas lights getting turned on. He knows he's being ridiculous, but Darcy indulges all of it without once mentioning the fact that she's Jewish and doesn't even celebrate Christmas.

She's indulged everything up to now, at least. Tonight, apparently, it was just too goddamn cold. Which, judging by the stream of white fog every time he opens his mouth, is true, even if he can't really feel it any more.

“I can't feel my face,” Darcy says, wrinkling up her very pink nose. “Is my nose still there?”

“It's there,” he says, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Why don't you pull your scarf up over it?”

She clicks her tongue. “Then I'll suffocate. Also, this scarf smells funny.”

He picks up the tasselled end of it and gives it a sniff. It smells like... Chinese takeout. “I think you spilt takeout on it some time.”

She huffs. “Probably.”

“I'm sorry I dragged you out,” he says, “let's go home.”

She hmphs, crossing her arms over her chest, and walks a little way towards the subway before stopping. “I _still_ can't feel my nose,” she says irritably.

He turns to her, trying and failing to keep a smile off his face. She scowls at him and he smiles some more, before leaning over and gently kissing the tip of her nose. “Did that help?” he asks, slouching a little to get eye level with her.

She narrows her eyes. “ _No_. How would that help?”

He chuckles and kisses her on the forehead, then wraps his arms around her and pulls her against his chest. She returns the hug, working her cold hands underneath his jacket, and buries her face in his sweater.

After a minute, he hears a very muffled, “Better.”


End file.
